Mastermind
by smoke and fumes
Summary: Because, deep down inside, Hermione Granger is a really kinky girl who’ll stop at nothing to get her man. DHr.


**Mastermind by smoke and fumes (previously lipglossd)**

_Because, deep down inside, Hermione Granger is a really kinky girl who'll stop at nothing to get her man. (DMHG)_

A/N, Disclaimer: I don't owe Harry Potter or any of the characters, yes?Plus, you might think Hermione's a bit OOC in the fic, but I'm trying to make her as 'Hermione' as possible, so bear with me here! She's just a really smart, good girl who's _crazy in love_.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Mistletoe **

Hermione Granger knows there is something very, very wrong with her when she finds herself reading a thick, leather-bound volume entitled "_What Can I Do to Make You Love Me?_" For one, she does not know how it even got into her lap; for another, she is not one for reading such fluffy, bimbotic material, even though this i_s_ non-fiction after all, and not chick lit. Meanwhile, _Hogwarts: A History (Revised Edition) _and an assortment of similar books lie beside her, untouched, as she swiftly reads on, flipping the tome with nimble fingers.

It is difficult for her to stop, because, even as she deftly leafs through the pages, a grand plan is already forming in her head, one that would surely capture the heart of her love. Granted, it might mean taking some time off her schoolwork, but—

Oh, what is she saying? Schoolwork should be of utmost priority, especially with the tones of essays assigned by various teachers in preparation for their NEWTs. In spite of the fact that the prospect of war seems to be looming over their very heads, the Hogwarts staff prefer to continue on with their lessons in order to "equip fine students with the necessary skills in preparation for the oncoming war". Hermione has that line memorized already; she feels that, as Head Girl, she ought to be doing her duties properly and set a good example for all her schoolmates especially in such a crisis. She sulks suddenly, wishing that the immensely irritating Head Boy will do the same. Of late, the aforementioned Head Boy seems to prefer nothing but taking wrong strolls on the grounds or staying in his room.

Grunting, Hermione lifts the heavy book off her lap and grabs a spare bit of parchment, quickly beginning to write. She has decided that just spending a teensy weensy bit of time away from her schoolwork would not hurt much in general; at worst, she can continue with her Transfiguration essay after writing her marvelous idea. Soon enough the parchment is carefully printed with rows of neat black ink that spell out complicated instructions. Surely now, Hermione thinks, the object of her current lust will be drawn to her—at _last_! She can almost picture the scene, almost feel his lips on hers.

Oh, Merlin, she is _such_ a pervert. Could it be that, despite all the books, excellent examination results and late-night studying, she is, essentially, a functioning, if rather horny teenager, who cannot get Draco Malfoy out of her mind without dragging him into some lewd fantasy? For once, there is a question that leaves Hermione stumped.

Sometimes she wishes he isn't the Head Boy, because it gives her more opportunities to see him, but at other points in time she cherishes these chances and grabs them like they are life buoys. At any rate, him being the Head Boy will help greatly in her current scheme.

Smiling slightly, Hermione looks through the parchment once more, and finds the phrase she has been looking for. At the bottom, in a slightly smaller size, is the word "checklist" and she meticulously ticks off the word "mistletoe".

* * *

_(Three months back)_

_When Hermione Granger clambered out of bed one morning and headed down for breakfast, she certainly did not expect to see Draco Malfoy there, his eyes swollen, usually impeccable hair tousled. Molly Weasley was fussing over him, piling eggs and sausages onto his plate, while Ron scowled into his meal nearby. _

"_Come on now," Mrs Weasley was saying, "don't be so harsh on the poor boy. Look at him! He's hardly had much to eat for days, thank Merlin he found me outside and I brought him in. With all the Order members around," here she turned to Draco, smiling kindly, "you'll be just fine, dear. You-Know-Who or your dad can't find you here."_

"_Thanks," Draco had mumbled, pushing at his food with his fork. Hermione walked over and seated herself beside him, because the foreign look of forlornness in his eyes was utterly compelling. After all, she figured he was here for a reason, and would probably be staying for some time longer, so they might as well stop treating each other as mortal enemies. Giving him a tense smile, she tentatively said, "Morning."_

_Seemingly dazed, he nodded and added, almost as an afterthought: "You too, Hermione." _

_The word sounded so exquisite on his tongue, that for a moment Hermione simply forgot the world._

* * *

With one quick glance around the room, Hermione realizes, with satisfaction, that everything is perfect. The mistletoe is hanging casually off the ceiling, almost hidden, and her usual stack of books is placed on the couch beside her. Everything seems perfectly normal, but Hermione smiles, remembering the beeping system and everything else that she has thought of only a day ago. Her plan is perfect, and nothing is going to go wrong, she decides. With this joy she settles herself comfortably on the couch, picks up a random essay and begins checking through it. All that's left now, she reminds herself, is the arrival of Draco into the Head's quarters.

It seems an eternity has passed before he arrives—tall, swaggering, the wind ruffling at his hair. "Granger," he acknowledges, as he strides past her, but before he enters his chambers Hermione hastily gets up to speak.

"Malfoy."

He turns around, half amused, half irritated. "What? Waiting for your lover boy, or does that lover boy happen to be the devilishly handsome Hogwarts prince—me?"

How close he is to the truth! A blush is stealthily creeping up her cheeks but she chooses to look down and takes several deep breaths. "For your information, Malfoy, all boys are gits, and I would rather kiss a frog than even _have_ a lover boy like you, nonetheless. Besides, I called you to decide some uh, stuff. About Head duties, yes."

In response he raises one eyebrow, looking unconcerned. "Look," Hermione continues, "I've got it all planned out already. Come over here, I'll show you the schedule."

Yawning slightly he shuffles over, reading the roster silently and nodding his head at regular intervals. "Have I mentioned, Granger, that I don't really care for such detailed planning, or even duties, for that matter?"

Hermione ignores that and quickly decides to get on with her ingenious idea. She taps her feet innocently and pretends to look up at the ceiling, proceeding to give a little gasp. Granted, it isn't Christmas, but she certainly hopes he will fall for it and this will have an effect on him. "Is it me, or is it … _mistletoe _up there?"

Draco's response is to give a start and look up at the ceiling for quite some time. Sensing that he is rather shocked, Hermione tries desperately to redirect his attention but when he finally tears his gaze off the ceiling and looks at her, there is a hint of a grin on his face.

"As much as you want a kiss from me, Granger, I must say I'm not quite a generous dispenser of them, so don't get any ideas in your bookworm head." He takes a step forward, and is only a few centimeters away from her. Merlin, this proximity is killing her. And what is he _saying_? The staccato rhythm of her heart seems frighteningly loud, but Draco doesn't hear it and even has the cheek to place his face right beside hers, his lips lightly grazing her cheek. "One last thing, mistletoe is not a turn-on."

Blinking, Hermione stands dazed and does not realise as he strolls away, laughing to himself. It is only a while later that she sinks down onto the couch, absorbing the full significance of it all—her brilliant plan for him to kiss her under the mistletoe has failed spectacularly. Somehow, he has seen through the ingenuity of it and is trying to humiliate her, even.

Clearly she'd have to think of something else, now.

Too upset to resume with the checking of her essays, Hermione settles for her bed, instead. The piece of parchment that she has treasured for the whole day simply because it contains the blueprints of her plan is crumpled up and thrown aside. Left with no alternative, she picks up the fluffy tome from yesterday for some more light reading, with vengeance on her mind. Draco Malfoy is, quite simply, going to pay for this.

* * *

**End of Chapter 1, in which Hermione tries to get Draco to kiss her under the mistletoe (if you totally didn't get what I was saying). Look out for Chapter 2, Poetry. P.S., italics are flashbacks and you'll see more of it as I get on with the fic. **

**Review, plz! Much love.**


End file.
